


every good thing

by Anonymous



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Sexual Assault, Best Friends, Bullying, Emotional Sex, F/M, High School, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Virginity, Stiles Loves Scottie So Much, Stilinski Family Feels, Trans Character, Trans Scott McCall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 13:13:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18053156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “I’m spoiled for anyone else," Stiles says.Scottie rolls her eyes.  “You’ve never been with anyone else.  Or did you forget I’m your best friend and I know everything about you?”“Then I’m sure you know I don’twantto be with anyone else.  Like, ever.  For the rest of my life.”They’re pretty big words for a couple of seventeen-year-olds, but it doesn’t feel like it.  It feels…comfortable.  It feels true.  It is true.





	every good thing

**Author's Note:**

> alright so there's quite a few warnings for this one: swearing, bullying, sexual content, transphobia, attempted sexual assault. if you want more expounded-on warnings, see the end notes. be safe, loves!
> 
> i don't own teen wolf unfortunately

“You’re so beautiful, Scottie,” Stiles whispers as he kisses down her chest, lingering with wet lips at the space between her tits.  Scottie gasps for breath when Stiles gently scrapes his teeth along the sensitive skin right on the edge of the cup of her bra.  “Can I take it off?”

At the question, Scottie’s face goes rosy pink and Stiles can’t help it – he surges up to press a kiss to her mouth.  His best friend is so fucking gorgeous…Stiles seriously can’t believe he got this lucky.  “Y-yeah,” she finally answers, voice shaky.  “Just—be nice, okay?  They’re still really small.”

Stiles’ brow crinkles as he looks down at her.  “Hey,” he murmurs, smudging his thumb against her bottom lip.  “I love them.  I love _you_ , you know that, right?  You’re safe with me.”

“I love you, too,” Scottie says and then she pushes herself up onto her elbows so he can reach behind and unhook her bra.  Her tits _are_ small, barely there as she lies back, but seeing the way her nipples are hard from arousal and the chill of the room sends a wave of heat over Stiles’ body. 

“God,” he chokes out, thumbing at one of them.  Scottie squirms beneath him, breath hitching.  “ _God_ , Scottie.”

“Stiles,” she says, her voice raspy and eyes blown.  “ _Please_.”

“I’ve got you,” he promises, then leans down to suck one of her nipples into his mouth.  He stays up there for a long time, mouthing at her tits and running his hands up and down her quivering sides until they’re both hard, rolling their hips together through their underwear.  Stiles could probably come like this – he is seventeen, after all – but he doesn’t want to.  This is the first time one of their make outs delved firmly into actual sex territory and he isn’t going to waste it.

He’s not going to let them lose their virginity by coming in their pants, even if it is together.

So he makes himself hold still, dropping a gentle kiss onto Scottie’s trembling stomach when she makes a soft noise of protest.  “Let me just—” he says, words clumsy through the fog of arousal and _Scottie Scottie Scottie_.  He hooks his fingers into the waistband of her panties and raises an eyebrow in question.  “Okay?”

When she nods frantically, Stiles tugs them down her thighs and keeps tugging until they’re all the way off, dropping them unceremoniously to the floor.  All Stiles can do is stare, his mouth watering.

He’s seen Scottie’s dick plenty of times before, back when she still had short hair and a flat chest and went by Scott, but somewhere around her fourteenth birthday, she’d stopped getting dressed around him, hiding in the bathroom instead.  It’d confused him at first, but he’d never mentioned it – a decision he was so thankful for when she’d shown up at his house one night wearing a dress, tights, and a blush high on her cheekbones.  He’d understood instantly.  She hadn’t needed to say it.

He’d pulled her into a hug immediately and she’d clung to him like she never wanted to let go.  Stiles hadn’t wanted her to, either.

Now, her dick is smaller than before, curving up to barely touch her stomach.  She’s so fucking beautiful and Stiles wants to touch her so damn badly, but he makes himself wait, running his fingertips over her sharp hipbones instead.  She shudders.  “What do you want?” he asks gently, quietly, full of understanding.  “What are you comfortable with?”

“I don’t—I don’t want anything inside me,” she says, voice uncertain for the very first time.  Like she’s worried he’ll be disappointed or something.  As if that’d even be _possible_ , god.  Stiles takes her hand, linking his fingers with hers and squeezing so she knows he’s listening.  “No—no penetration, please.”

“Of course, Scottie.”  Then, stomach swooping with burning hot want, Stiles asks shakily, “Can I go down on you?”

Her eyes go huge at the question, a prickling flush traveling from her neck all the way down to her bellybutton.  “You’d do that?” she says, hushed tone full of wonder.  “For me?”

“You have no idea how bad I wanna get my mouth on you,” Stiles admits and with anyone else he might be embarrassed to be seen in such a state, hard and leaking and fucking gagging for it, but it’s Scottie so it’s okay.  They’re in this together and it’s _good_.  “Do you want me to?”

“God, Stiles, _please_?” Scottie breathes, one of her hands racing down for her dick but curling into a fist at the last second like she doesn’t want to touch without permission.  It sends Stiles absolutely _reeling_ and before he can feel nervous about it, he takes her into his mouth.  A choked off moan punches from Scottie’s throat at the feeling and it’s the best thing Stiles has ever heard.

He’s never sucked dick before – he’d never planned to, either, until Scottie kissed him in her bedroom on the first day of the school year, kick-starting their transition from best friends to something else – and as small as she is, he still gags more than is probably sexy.  But her hands are in his hair, tugging in a way that sends shivers up his spine, and it encourages him, bobbing and licking and sucking like he can’t get enough.  When she falls over the edge with his name on her lips, there’s barely any come and he’s able to swallow it easily, working her through the aftershocks until she pats his shoulder in a request for him to stop. 

Then, grinning, he climbs back up her body to kiss at her slack lips.

“Holy fuck, Stiles,” she whispers when they break apart.  “ _Shit._ ”

He’s fairly certain she didn’t hate it, but he’s an insecure piece of crap at the heart of it, so he asks, just to be sure, “It was good?”

“ _So_ good.”  Scottie’s whole body is trembling.  “I love you so much, _fuck_.  Let me do you now!”

They turn on their sides and she works him to orgasm with a hand down his boxers as they suck on each other’s tongues, their teeth clacking together every so often.  When he finally comes, it feels so good he wants to cry.

But Scottie’s already crying and the last thing they need is two basket cases in the same bed, so Stiles swallows it back and wipes away her tears with his thumbs.  “Sh-shh,” he murmurs, pecking her nose, her cheek, her forehead.  “I’m here, I’ve got you.  You’re alright, Scottie…you’re okay.”

“I had no idea it could be like that,” she whimpers, eyes shut tight like she’s trying to stop the tears.  They’re still squeezing out from the corners, trailing down her cheeks.  “I never thought I’d get to—but here you are and— _god_ , Stiles!”

A rush of fierce, hot protectiveness washes over him and he pulls her in close, folding his arms around her like he’s daring the universe to come between them.  “I love you so fucking much,” Stiles tells her, feeling it in every nerve ending in his body.  He knows they’ve said it so many times tonight it’s almost bordering on excessive, but he doesn’t care.  He loves her more than he’s ever loved anybody and he’ll say it until his voice is hoarse.  Scream it, even, if she wanted him to.  “You deserve every good thing you could ever want.  You deserve to _feel_ good because you are good, Scottie.  You’re the best person in the world.”

It makes her open her eyes, her smile a mile wide.  “And it was good for you, too?”

“ _Very_ ,” he says, feeling a dull throb between his legs just thinking about it.  He could go again in a couple minutes, but he knows Scottie wouldn’t be able to manage it, so he ignores the feeling.  He just wants to hold her anyway.  “I’m spoiled for anyone else.”

She rolls her eyes.  “You’ve never been with anyone else.  Or did you forget I’m your best friend and I know everything about you?”

“Then I’m sure you know I don’t _want_ to be with anyone else.  Like, ever.  For the rest of my life.”

They’re pretty big words for a couple of seventeen-year-olds, but it doesn’t feel like it.  It feels…comfortable.  It feels true.  It _is_ true. 

“Me, neither,” Scottie whispers, eyes filling with tears again.  This time, she doesn’t let them fall, angling her head up to kiss him softly.  He squeaks and kisses her back.

\- - - 

Senior year is a hellscape of homework, group projects, and college applications, so Stiles and Scottie rarely get to spend time together outside of school.  They keep in touch via text, stupid running commentary or hundreds of goofy anecdotes a day that make Stiles grin down at his phone like a fool.  Every so often the messages lose their innocent vibe, edging on sexting, but it never lasts long.  Phone sex is dumb, especially since Scottie struggles to get off without help.  There’s no point.

It’s almost three weeks before they’re able to hook up again, exchanging blowjobs up in Stiles’ room while his dad’s at work.  It’s Scottie’s first attempt and Stiles is torn between getting lost in the pleasure and stroking gently at her face, begging her to take a break.  “Don’t hurt yourself,” he whispers, stomach cramping with anxiety at the tear tracks on her face.  “You don’t have to try and take it all.”

“ _You_ did,” Scottie says, sitting back on her heels long enough to catch her breath.  “I wanna do it good like you.”

“My dick’s way bigger than yours,” Stiles points out and then winces at how it sounds.  He honestly wasn’t trying to be a fuckboy – he really just wants her to slow down. 

Luckily, Scottie just nods, completely unbothered.  Stiles knows she couldn’t give less of a shit about her dick if she tried.  “Okay,” she finally agrees.  “Okay, I’ll be more careful.”

“Thank you,” Stiles whispers, tapping her beneath the chin so she’ll look up.  He kisses her.  “You feel really good, but I don’t want it to hurt.”

Face set with renewed determination, Scottie wraps her mouth around the head and uses her hands for the rest.  Satisfied that she’s not in pain anymore, Stiles loses himself in it, embarrassing high-pitched noises falling from between his lips unbidden.  He knows he’s being too loud, but he can’t bring himself to care, shouting every cuss word in the book when he finally comes.  Scottie pulls off so he comes on her chest instead of in her mouth, which Stiles understands.  His body makes a hell of a lot more spunk than hers does.

They clean each other up with washcloths and lie down together, side-by-side in Stiles’ twin-sized bed.  Luckily they both pull their underwear back on, because it’s only a few minutes later when there’s the quick rap of knuckles on his door and it swings open.

“OH MY GOD!” Stiles and his dad yelp at the same time.

“Get out, get _out_!” Stiles cries, face burning as he flings an arm out to block Scottie’s tits from view.  “What the _fuck_!”

The door slams shut as quickly as it opened, Dad’s voice on the edge of panic as he shouts through the wall, “Stiles, I _told_ you I was going to be home early tonight!”

Stiles swipes a hand down his face.  He wants to fucking die.  “No, you didn’t!”

“Yes, I did!  I texted you three hours ago!”

“No, you di—”  Stiles trails off as he looks over at the bedside table where he normally leaves his phone and finds it empty.  He launches himself off the bed to search through his jeans pockets and finds those empty, too.  It’s not in his backpack, either.  He cringes.  “I think I lost my phone, Pops.”

“For the love of _God_ , Stiles!” his dad nearly screeches and Stiles can’t figure out if it’s about his phone or the fact that he’s clearly spent the evening fucking his best friend.  Probably both.  “Just—make yourself presentable, please.  If you need me, I’ll be downstairs getting blackout drunk.”

Scottie has the decency not to break into giggles until Dad’s footsteps have completely faded away.  “That was horrible,” she wheezes, curling into Stiles so she can hide her face in his neck.  “It’s a good thing you’ve been making him eat healthy or I think he might’ve had a heart attack right then and there.”

“No,” Stiles groans, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyeballs so hard he sees stars.  “No!  You are _not_ allowed to laugh about this.  I have to move to Alaska, Scottie!”

“It could’ve been worse,” Scottie points out.  “He could’ve walked in ten minutes earlier.”

Stiles wrenches his hands away from his eyes.  “Why would you say that?” he laments, staring at her in betrayal.  “Why would you even put that out into the universe?”

“Sorry,” she laughs, soothing him with a kiss.  “We’ll go to my house next time.  Nurses _never_ get to leave early.”

“Deal.”  Stiles leans off the side of the bed to gather their clothes, heat rising in his cheeks when Scottie smacks him on the ass.  Dammit.  As they get dressed, he sighs forlornly, thinking of his mostly empty bank account.  “Guess I gotta get a new phone.”

“Get your dad to pay for it.”

Stiles snorts.  “I’m never talking to my dad again,” he says decisively and Scottie snickers.

\- - - 

When he gets home from school the next day, there’s a box of condoms, a bottle of lube, and a Planned Parenthood pamphlet about STD testing on his bed.  Across the top of the pamphlet is a scribbled note that says _Just in case_.  It makes Stiles’ face go so hot it feels like it’s going to melt off, but he takes the gesture for what it is.  His dad isn’t mad at him – he just wants them to be safe.

He stashes it all away in his desk drawer.

\- - - 

That Friday the locker room is buzzing with…something.  Stiles can feel it like electricity in the air as he changes from his school clothes into his lacrosse uniform, slamming his locker shut once he’s done.  As he sits down on the bench to lace up his cleats, a single voice breaks through the murmur of background conversation and catches Stiles’ attention.

“ _I can’t stop thinking about your mouth_ ,” Theo says, squinting down at his phone like he’s reading off of it.  Stiles rolls his eyes.  Theo’s always been the king of locker room talk.  “ _If I really concentrate, it’s enough to get me hard._ ”

It bids Stiles pause, his fingers freezing where they’re fiddling with his laces.  The words feel familiar somehow, like he’s heard them before.  Like maybe—  “ _Getting off without you is hard, but I think I might try tonight_ ,” Theo reads on and Stiles’ entire body goes burning hot and then ice cold quick as a flash.

He’s on his feet in a second.  “Where did you get that?” he demands, feeling so sick he’s scared he might vomit.  He lunges for Theo’s phone, but Theo just twirls out of the way with aggravating grace.  Stiles stumbles against the lockers, chest heaving.

Instead of answering, Theo’s face pulls into an evil smirk as he keeps reading.  “ _Fuck, Scottie, you can’t do this to me…I’m at the police station with Parrish and my dad!  God, I wanna suck you so bad_.”

“Shut up!” Stiles cries, lunging again.  This time he manages to knock the phone out of Theo’s grasp, but before he can dive for it, three pairs of strong hands grab him from behind and hold him in place.  “Stop it, Theo, this isn’t funny!”

“I don’t know, I personally think it’s hilarious,” Theo spits, crouching down to retrieve his phone.  It’s intact, completely unaffected by the fall.  Then he turns to the rest of the team.  “Don’t you think it’s funny, guys?  Stilinski’s sucking our captain’s dick!”

The locker room goes up in hoots and hollers, the obnoxious sound echoing through the room.  “I can do you next if you’re so upset about it,” Stiles snarls, struggling against his teammates’ grip.  Their hands are unforgiving and Stiles regrets not for the first time his complete lack of workout regimen.  He’s embarrassingly impotent against the other boys.  “No need to be jealous.”

“Oh, you’d never want me,” Theo says casually, like he has all the time in the world.  Stiles wonders if there’s even a drop of conscience in his entire stupid body.  “I don’t wear pretty panties.”

Then he turns the phone around and Stiles’ mouth floods with bile.

Because it’s a picture.  Of Scottie.  Or at least…of Scottie’s lower half, the tip of her small, hard dick peeking out of the lacy waistband of her pale blue underwear.  It was sent in a rare moment of unabashed confidence and followed up with a rainbow of heart emojis.  Stiles had jerked off to it that night – of course he did, he was a gross teenage boy – but he’d also been really proud of her.  She was loving herself more and more with every passing day and it was exactly what he’d always wanted for her.

And now a locker room full of boys are passing it around, roaring in disgust and pretending to gag behind their hands.  Stiles is screaming wordlessly, so fucking angry and so fucking _sick_ that his eyes start to blur with tears.  Fuck, he wants to _kill_ them.

“That’s so fucking disgusting!” Diaz crows, eyes lit with mirth.  “Stroke game so bad you can’t get a girl with a pussy, huh?”

“Nah, Stilinski’s pussy enough for the both of them,” Miller sneers.  “ _Someone_ had to have a dick in the relationship.”

“Hey, I like that,” Theo laughs, and Stiles’ wet eyes widen in pure panic when he sees Theo open a group chat and attach the photo.  “What’s a good caption, do you think?  Hashtag-ChickDick?”

“No, stop, _please_!” Stiles shrieks, his teammates’ laughter echoing in his ears.  Blood on fire, Stiles bites down hard on the hand closest to his face, finally able to wrench away when the guy yelps in pain and lets go.  He tackles Theo to the ground and punches him in the jaw, but not before Theo hits the ‘send’ button.  Stiles’ body instantly goes weak and he rolls off of Theo to stoop over on the concrete floor, panting for panicked breath.  “Why would you do that?”

“She brought it on herself by cheating her way up to team captain,” is Theo’s simple answer.  Stiles has no idea what he means by _cheating_ , but he figures it doesn’t matter.  The guys have always been angry that a girl is the best one on the team.  “And _you_ brought it on yourself by leaving your phone on the bleachers.  I got your SIM card, bitch.”

Then he gives a swift kick to Stiles’ ribs and leads the team out of the locker room.

The kick chases the air from Stiles’ lungs but he scrambles to his feet anyway, a singular, desperate goal in mind.  He needs to find Scottie.  Now.

He doesn’t even hesitate before rushing into the girls’ locker room, knowing it’ll only be Scottie and Kira in there anyway.  Kira’s cool – any possible annoyance she might feel will disappear the second she finds out what happened.  She and Scottie have become pretty good friends over the past few seasons, what with being the only girls on the team and sharing hotel rooms for away games.  She never says a thing when Stiles inevitably ditches whoever his roommate is and curls up in Scottie’s bed instead.  She gets it.

When Stiles finds her, Scottie is braiding her hair behind her so her big, fluffy curls will fit beneath her lacrosse helmet.  He breaks into hysterics on sight.  “Fuck, Scottie…I’m so, so, _so_ sorry!  I tried to stop them, I _swear_ , but I was too late!  They fucking—they fucking wouldn’t let me go and I didn’t know what to do and—”

“What are you talking about?” Scottie asks, brow crinkling with concern.  She grabs him by the shoulders, running comforting hands up and down his triceps.  “You gotta breathe, dude.  Who did what?”

“They leaked our texts,” Stiles says miserably, swallowing hard against the urge to throw up.  “I guess I left my phone on the field and they got my SIM card.  They have everything.”

The color drains from Scottie’s face, leaving her paler than Stiles has ever seen her.  “Everything?” she whispers, eyes wide.  “Like… _everything_ everything?”

Stiles just nods.  “It was Theo,” he says, lips trembling.  He wants to sob.  “He sent that picture of you to the entire lacrosse team.”

He doesn’t have to specify which one.  There’s only one picture – only one perfect, beautiful picture born out of trust and love and acceptance.  And now _they_ have it.

“Oh _god_ ,” Scottie chokes out, sinking onto the bench with her hand pressed to her mouth.  “ _Shit_ , _shit_ , _shit_ , _shit_!”

And then she starts to cry.

It’s a horrible sound, loud and gut-wrenching as it tears out of the back of her throat.  But when Stiles sits down next to her, when he says, “I’m _so_ fucking sorry” with tears in his eyes, she just shakes her head emphatically, waving him away.

“I can’t do this right now,” she says through her tears.  “God, I’m so stupid.  Why did I think that I could have—?  I should’ve _known_.”

Searing pain shoots through Stiles’ body at the statement.  “Scottie, no,” he murmurs urgently.  “No, this is all on them, okay?  This is all _their_ problem.  It has nothing to do with you.”

At his words, her head snaps up with a sudden burst of anger, nostrils flaring.  “Don’t condescend to me!” she orders fiercely, eyes flashing.  “It has _everything_ to do with me!  You have no idea what it’s like for people to hate you the second you walk into the room because they think you’re all wrong.  Because they think you’re _disgusting_.  Nothing to do with me, my ass!  If it’s everyone else’s problem, why am I the one that gets every single thing I’ve ever wanted torn out from under me?”

There are tears streaming down Stiles’ face.  “You’re right,” he says hoarsely.  “I don’t know what it’s like.  But I do know that I love you, okay?  I love you so fucking much and they couldn’t take that away from you if they tried.”

Scottie is quiet for a few seconds, trying to collect herself, before she squeezes her eyes shut tight like she’s trying to block out the world.  “I can’t do this right now,” she says again, voice thick with tears.  “You go play lacrosse while I figure out how to deal with the fact that the entire school has probably seen my dick by now.”  She chokes on the last few words, dissolving into sobs once more.  Stiles’ stomach hurts.

His Scottie, his _best friend_ , is absolutely humiliated and for the first time since they met in elementary school, Stiles doesn’t know how to fix her.

“Scottie, I—”

That’s as far as he gets before she turns her back to him, clearly signaling that the conversation is over.  They’re not together – not officially, anyway – but it feels terrifyingly like a breakup.  It makes him want to rip his own hair out of his scalp. 

But he respects her wishes – god knows she’s been violated enough today – and trudges slowly past her, barely fighting off the urge to touch her.  “I love you,” he says, one last time.  “No matter what anyone says.”

And then he leaves, his heart a million tiny fragments in his chest.

\- - - 

_Are you okay?_ Stiles texts Scottie that night on his new phone.

_No_

_Do you want me to come over?_

_No_

_Ok. Love u_

*Read at 10:42 PM

\- - - 

Scottie doesn’t come to school for a week.

They have an emergency assembly on Scottie’s second day out, the entire student body squished onto the bleachers in the gym.  Ms. Martin gives a passionate speech about bullying and discrimination and the school’s Zero Tolerance Policy for both, but Stiles is not entirely sure it isn’t falling on deaf ears.  Every time he opens his locker, numerous scraps of paper flutter out and hit the ground, inked with nasty words like COCKSUCKER and STILINSKI GOES PRO.  That’s not the bad part, though.  He doesn’t care if the entire fucking school knows that he loves Scottie…he’s not ashamed of that. 

The bad part is Scottie’s picture.  It’s _everywhere_.  And every time Stiles tears one down off Scottie’s locker or the wall of the boys’ bathroom, two more crop up.  It’s like a motherfucking dick hydra.

It makes him angry, disgusted, and mostly really fucking sad.

“She’s quitting the team,” Kira tells him at their next practice.  Her face is drawn with sympathy.  “I can’t really blame her.  If it was me, I’d never feel safe enough to be around those boys ever again.  It just sucks that she’s going to have to give up team captain.  She was so freaking good at it, too.”

It’s the first time Stiles has heard of the new development and he swallows down his hurt.  After over a decade of telling each other everything, it’s a shock to have to learn about Scottie’s life from another person.  It’s not for lack of trying, though.  He’s been over at the McCall house almost every night since shit went south, intercepted at the door by an exhausted-looking Melissa.  She hasn’t let him inside yet.

But this isn’t about him.  This is about Scottie and if she feels the most comfortable with Kira right now, that’s okay.  He’d never begrudge her that.

It still really hurts, though.

“The next time you guys talk, could you tell her I miss her?” Stiles pleads, voice trembling.  “And that I support her in whatever she chooses?”

Kira nods, reaching over to give his shoulder a squeeze.  “She knows,” she says quietly.  “She just needs more time.”

“I’ll wait as long as she needs,” Stiles says resolutely and Kira gives him a sad smile.

\- - - 

_Can we talk?_

*Read at 9:37 PM

\- - - 

When Scottie finally returns to school, the hallways hum with gossip and giggles.  She holds her head high through it all, refusing to flinch when people shout awful things at her.  She’s brave and beautiful when she takes her normal seat next to Stiles in their economics class and it makes Stiles’ heart soar.  He’d been terrified that she was broken, that she was busted up beyond repair, but she seems more angry and vindictive than anything.  And an angry Scottie is a Scottie that’s still fighting.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” Stiles whispers before Finstock calls the class to order.  “I’ve missed you so bad.”

“Yeah, Kira told me,” Scottie says, flipping her textbook open and making it abundantly clear that the conversation is over.  Stiles’ stomach sinks.

The most he manages to get out of her all day is a tired “I can’t do this” when he joins her at their usual lunch table.  It feels like the entire cafeteria is watching them – probably because they are – and it makes the tips of Stiles’ ears turn red.  But the prickle of so many eyes on them is nothing compared to the shock of Scottie gathering her things and walking away.  It feels like a punch to the gut.

Scottie isn’t broken, but Stiles is starting to think that _they_ are.

It goes on like this for days, Scottie greeting him with a preemptive “I can’t do this” when he approaches her.  It’s the same phrase every single time.  I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I can’t do this.  It makes his entire body hurt.

When the words turn into “God, can’t you just go the fuck away?” Stiles finally breaks.  He drives straight to the sheriff’s station after school lets out, marches into his dad’s office, and bursts into tears.

“ _Dad_ ,” he weeps as his father leaps out of the chair in a panic, racing around his desk to wrap his arms around Stiles’ shaking body, no questions asked.  “Dad— _daddy_!”

“What’s wrong, kiddo?” he whispers, his strong hands rubbing so gently up and down Stiles’ back like he can siphon the pain from his skin.  “What happened?”

“Scottie hates me!” he wails, unable to hold it back.  “I ruined her fucking life and she hates me and I wanna—I wanna just _die_!”

When his dad pulls away, he tugs Stiles by the hand over to the couch tucked up against the glass wall of his office.  He gestures for Stiles to take the cushion next to him, but Stiles shakes his head tearfully and climbs into his father’s lap like he hasn’t in years.  Dad takes it in stride, holding Stiles close to his chest without hesitation.  One of his hands strokes soothingly through Stiles’ hair.  “Start at the beginning,” Dad says quietly, forever a sheriff.  “And we’ll work it out together.”

Stiles nods, swallowing hard.  His sobs have finally quieted, but his voice is still thick and trembly when he says, “One of the kids at school hacked my phone and there was some pretty—sensitive?—material on it.”  He winces.  “Like pictures.”

Dad’s hand stutters in his hair for a split second before continuing.  “Of you and Scottie.”

He doesn’t sound angry, so Stiles forages on.  “Only of Scottie,” he admits.  “And it was only one, I swear!  And she was really careful…her face isn’t even in it.  I know we shouldn’t have done it and I _know_ I should’ve deleted it, but I was an idiot and now the entire school has seen it!”  He takes a deep breath.  “I’m so sorry, Dad.  She’s so embarrassed and everyone’s being awful to her and it’s all my fucking fault.”

“You’re not in trouble, kid,” his father promises, giving Stiles a squeeze.  “There was definitely a lapse in judgment on both of your parts, but it’s pretty normal teenager stuff.”

“Not for Scottie it’s not,” Stiles points out miserably.  “So much of the world hates her for who she is and instead of protecting her, I exposed her.  I mean, most of the school already knew, but having a visual aid didn’t exactly help the whole _tolerance_ thing.  They’ve been really bad, Dad.  Really, _really_ bad.”  Then he sighs.  “And now she won’t talk to me and you know what’s weird?  I kind of don’t even think it’s because she blames me for the leak.  She just keeps telling me she can’t do it.”

“She’s probably scared.”

“Yeah.”  Stiles’ vision goes blurry.  “I just want her to know that I love her.  Because I do, you know?  Love her, I mean.  It’s not just—”  A prickly flush sweeps over the back of his neck as he remembers his dad walking in on them all those weeks ago.  “It’s not just sex.”

“Of course it’s not,” Dad says comfortingly.  His tone is soft.  “She’s your best friend.  There’s no truer love than that.”

His energy sapped, Stiles buries his face in his dad’s neck.  “What do we do now?”

“Well, Scottie’s still seventeen,” his dad says matter-of-factly, drumming his fingers absently against Stiles’ back.  “That means that any circulation of the picture is illegal.  I can go down to that school myself and escort little teenage assholes out in cuffs for distribution of child pornography.  I think one or two arrests should get the point across nicely.”

For the first time all day, Stiles grins.  “You’d do that?”

“You bet your ass I’d do that.”  Then, “And as for what _you_ should do, I think that’s a harder question.  Because you can tell her over and over that you’re not going anywhere, but she won’t believe it until she wants to.  Fear is a tough thing to overcome.  Especially when the deck is stacked against you.”

“So it’s hopeless?”  Stiles hates that answer.

“Not hopeless,” Dad says with a shrug that jostles Stiles’ head a bit.  “Just difficult.  But you’ve always been up for a challenge.”

His dad’s words carry him all the way back home and give him the courage to send Scottie one last message.

_I’ll be here when you’re ready_

The answer comes hours later when he’s half asleep and bleary-eyed. 

_Okay_

\- - - 

Stiles waits and Stiles watches.

He waits for days that feel like weeks and weeks that feel like years, giving Scottie the space she wants despite how much it hurts.  He always gives her a friendly smile in economics class but that’s as far as it goes.  When she returns it, it’s usually tight-lipped and forced.

He watches as she walks the halls with Kira, watches as she turns in her lacrosse uniform and equipment, and watches as Theo is led from the school with his hands cuffed behind his back.  Later, his dad tells him that they’ve confiscated Stiles’ SIM card and are holding it for evidence.  It’s good, of course it’s good, but it makes Stiles’ stomach squirm with embarrassment.

“I’m not going to look at your texts, Stiles,” Dad promises like he can read Stiles’ mind.  “Or Scottie’s picture.  I’ve handed the case off to one of the detectives and told her to include me on a need-to-know basis.  You can trust her.”

It’s a relief and Stiles nods gratefully, flinging his arms around his dad’s neck in a clumsy hug.  Dad chuckles and hugs him back.

Lacrosse practice sucks without Scottie and if quitting didn’t feel like admitting defeat, Stiles would’ve turned in his equipment, too.  But he refuses to let a team full of jackasses win.  He refuses to let _hate_ win.  If they think they can do whatever the fuck they want to people until they’re the only ones left, they’ve got another thing coming.

So he practices harder than he’s ever practiced before and by the time Coach appoints Liam Dunbar the new team captain, Stiles has finagled his way onto first line.  Replacing Diaz.  It’s all Stiles can do not to gloat.

As he walks out to his car after practice, he’s whistling to himself, feeling lighter than he has in weeks.  Shit still sucks, but it feels nice to finally have _something_ go his way.  He has his key in the Jeep’s mostly-broken lock, jiggling it around in an attempt to get the door open, when a cruel hand clamps down over his mouth from behind and yanks him backwards.  He screams behind the hand, fighting and kicking and clawing, but just like that horrible, awful day in the locker room – the day that fucking ruined _everything_ – there’s just too many of them.  They drag him all the way back to the lacrosse field and under the bleachers, pinning him to the ground with strong hands on his shoulders, his hips, his legs.

Diaz is the one covering his mouth because of course he is.  If Stiles weren’t beginning to hyperventilate he’d probably roll his eyes.  _Typical_.

“What’s your fucking problem?” Diaz hisses, voice quiet and dangerous.  It makes Stiles’ body go still in terror.  He’s seen enough to know that a calm, collected bully is the worst kind.  “Getting Theo kicked off the team wasn’t enough for you, huh?  You don’t know when to fucking stop!”

“ _Hmmmg nnhm_!” Stiles murmurs behind Diaz’s hand, blood hot with anger.

Cackling, Diaz finally removes his hand, wiping the excess spit onto his jeans with exaggerated disgust.  “You’re gonna have to speak up, bitch!”

“I said, fuck you!” Stiles spits out, squirming fruitlessly against the hands holding him down.  “Theo got _himself_ kicked off the team and you know it.  And _you_ got yourself replaced, asshole!”

It’s the wrong thing to say and Stiles _knows_ it’s the wrong thing to say, but he’s so fucking mad he can’t bring himself to care.  The fist that slams into his mouth isn’t a surprise and neither is the glob of spit that splatters somewhere by his left eyebrow.  It’s disgusting, but he hardly notices because suddenly Diaz is sitting on his chest, making all of the air whoosh from Stiles’ lungs.  By the time Stiles can breathe again, Diaz has his pants open and _that’s_ a surprise.

Eyes going wide, Stiles flops back into the dirt like his limbs are made of jelly.  “Wh-what are you doing?” he asks, voice trembling. 

“Giving you a _real_ cock to suck,” Diaz sneers and then he’s fishing it from his boxers, just a few inches from Stiles’ face.  “Maybe we can get a little peace and quiet around here, eh?”

Stiles’ teammates laugh like it’s the funniest thing they’ve ever heard and his blood turns to ice in his veins.  He’s completely alone – not a single one of them is going to help him.

The realization swirling in his stomach like acid, Stiles does the only thing he can think of: he screams.  He screams louder than he ever has before, kicking and fighting with renewed strength, bucking up and down to try and throw Diaz off of him.

The other boys are starting to panic, their nails digging into his skin and terrified voices hissing, “Shut him up for fuck’s sake!”

Diaz surges forward dick-first to follow their orders but before he has the chance, there’s a blur of color in Stiles’ peripheral vision and a wooden baseball bat comes crashing down on top of Diaz’s head.  He crumbles forward in a heap, knocked the fuck out.  As Stiles’ assailants leap away in horror, he takes advantage of their surprise and wrenches his arms free, pushing Diaz’s limp body off of himself and crawling away from the mayhem on his hands and knees.  He’s bawling.

Through his tears he watches Kira, Liam, and Scottie – his beautiful, wonderful Scottie – tackle the boys, drawing blood with every punch and screaming all manner of threats until the cowards are yelping half-assed apologies and promising never to go near Stiles ever again.  The bat is Scottie’s and she uses it liberally, swinging at anyone who gets within reach.  By the time the crowd has scattered, Stiles’ rescuers are panting for breath.

Scottie takes charge, giving Kira and Liam orders to call the cops and have them come collect Diaz.

“Should we, uh—?”  Liam breaks off awkwardly, gesturing at Diaz’s undressed state.

But Scottie just shakes her head.  “Let _him_ be humiliated for once,” she says, jaw set with anger.  “He fucking deserves it.  I’m gonna take Stiles home, okay?  Call me if you need anything.”

Then she crouches down in front of Stiles, her smile full of sorrow, and whispers, “I’ve got you, Stiles.  I’ve got you.”

“ _Scottie_ ,” he whispers and then he’s falling into her arms.

She holds him close for a few seconds, then helps him to his feet.  Luckily, his car keys are still on the asphalt next to the Jeep and Scottie scoops them up without a word, sliding into the driver’s seat.  He obeys the unspoken command, getting into the passenger side without complaint.  He cries the entire ride home, hugging himself around the middle and biting his lips to stay as quiet as possible.

“Please don’t go,” Stiles begs once they’ve pulled into his driveway.  “I can’t—I don’t wanna be alone right now.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Scottie whispers, reaching out to take him by the hand.  Stiles knows she’s talking about the here and the now, about the absolute hell Stiles has just been through, but he lets himself believe she means forever.  He lets himself believe it’s a promise.

They lie down on Stiles’ bed for the first time in way too long and when Stiles breaks, Scottie wraps her arms around him, holding him close to her chest.  “You don’t have to be scared,” she’s murmuring, pressing feather-light kisses to his forehead and carding her fingers through his hair.  “You’re with me now and you’re safe.  You’re safe, Stiles.”

“Thanks for saving me,” Stiles says, voice shaking almost as much as his body is.  “I felt so alone.”

It makes Scottie’s body go still.  “You have been alone, haven’t you?” she says, breathes it into the top of Stiles’ head.  “That’s my fault, I guess.  It didn’t even occur to me that you didn’t have a Kira to pick up the slack.”  She takes Stiles gently by the jaw, pushing him back so she can look him in the eyes.  Hers are dark and sad.  “It shouldn’t have taken something like _this_ for me to notice.”

Her words are written with self-loathing and Stiles hates it.  None of this is her fault – _none_ of it.  So he quickly shakes his head and holds her gaze when he says, “It’s not your fault I don’t have any other friends, Scottie.  And it’s _definitely_ not your fault that Diaz attacked me.  Him and Theo and the rest of them are bad fucking people and there’s nothing anyone can do to change that.  But it doesn’t matter, because you’re a _good_ person and you showed up when I needed you.”

“I should’ve been there—”

“No,” Stiles cuts her off.  “You needed time.  And that’s okay.  You’re here now and that’s all that matters.”

A whimper falls from between Scottie’s lips and she squeezes her eyes shut.  “But that’s what I’m trying to tell you,” she says, mouth trembling.  “I’m _not_ here.  At least not the way I was before.  This is—this isn’t _that_ , Stiles.  We’re not getting back together.”

“I know,” Stiles whispers because he does.  He knows.  “It’s okay.”

Scottie’s eyes fly open.  “Really?”

“Yeah.”  As much as he tries to fight it, he can hear the tears in his voice when he pleads, “Just—don’t leave me alone again.  _Please_?”

“I won’t,” Scottie says, the back of his shirt crumpled in her fists, and this time Stiles _knows_ it’s a promise.

\- - - 

Finstock kicks Diaz and everyone involved in both the attack and the phone hack off the lacrosse team, filling varsity first line with second-stringers and the best players from the JV team.  When Scottie shows up to practice one day, eyes full of hope as she begs Coach to let her back on the team, he doesn’t even hesitate before saying yes.  He just throws her jersey at her with a cheerful _Suit up, McCall!_ that makes Stiles’ entire body go warm.

Liam, who Stiles develops a deeper respect for every single day, announces that he’s stepping down from his role as team captain, passing the baton back to Scottie now that she’s returned.  It’s a lovely gesture, but Scottie refuses to accept it, squabbling with Liam until they settle on being co-captains instead.

Their new team, quite frankly, sucks.  But even as they get their asses kicked in game after game, Stiles can tell that something is different.  The boys – and Kira and Scottie – are having _fun_.  The bus rides home after away games are full of playful chattering and excited play-by-plays from kids who never thought they’d actually get to participate in a game.  And, most of all, they respect Scottie’s position as captain without question.  Stiles hasn’t heard a muttered complaint or hissed _stupid fucking girl_ since the rebrand.

Now if only they could win.

Stiles and Scottie start hanging out on the weekends again, awkward and halting at first, but growing more comfortable as time goes on.  By Scottie’s eighteenth birthday, things are pretty much back to normal.  They don’t kiss or hook up anymore, but that’s okay.  Scottie’s his best friend and Stiles is ecstatic to have her back.  Those weeks without her were the worst in his life.

Kira, Liam, and Liam’s best friend, Mason, come to Scottie’s birthday party with armloads of gifts, their generosity making Scottie blush.

“Are you serious?” she cries, hiding her burning face in her hands.  “You guys didn’t have to do this!  Gosh, it’s enough that you just showed up.”

“Nonsense,” Kira says, waving her off.  “What’re friends for?”

“If you can’t spoil your co-captain, who _can_ you spoil?” Liam points out, stroking his nonexistent beard with faux seriousness.  “That’s the real question.”

God, Stiles loves them so much.

They spend the evening eating cake and getting into Melissa’s liquor cabinet.  They’re careful not to drink too much – as cool as Melissa is, she’s bound to freak out if she thinks they overdid it – giggling into each other’s shoulders and singing embarrassingly off-key versions of the birthday song.  Someone, Stiles is too buzzed to figure out who, yells something about birthday spankings and Scottie ends up rolling around in the middle of the living room rug, choking on her laughter as she bats their hands away.

“Get away from my butt!” she cries, voice practically a squeal.  “I am your _captain_ god-fucking-dammit!”

“It’s a good butt,” Stiles says wistfully because he’s kinda drunk and it _is_ a good butt, alright, and Mason gives him a sympathetic slap on the back.  Luckily, no one else seems to notice.

After Kira’s mom picks the other three up, rolling her eyes at their tipsy snickers, Stiles stays the night.  He falls asleep with his arms curled around Scottie’s waist, but not before he whispers into the darkness of the room, “I’m so glad you’re my friend, Scottie.”

“Me too,” Scottie says and it hums through Stiles’ belly like butterflies flapping their little wings.  _Me too_ , _me too_ , _me too_.

\- - - 

The night of their last lacrosse game ever, it rains.  Or, more accurately, it _pours_.  Scottie chews on her lip as she watches the field from their hiding spot beneath the bleachers – Stiles is very studiously _not_ looking over at the patch of dirt where he can still so vividly remember being pinned – and lets out a heavy sigh.  “They’re gonna cancel, aren’t they?” she says sadly.  “Our last game of senior year and we’re getting rained out.”

Stiles snorts.  “If it’s up to Finstock, we’ll still play.  He’d rather us all get struck by lightning than forfeit.”  He runs a hand down her back.  “You prepared to dodge raindrops, captain?”

“I’m prepared to kick ass,” Scottie shoots back, tone resolute.  “Devenford plays on turf back home, not grass.  Let’s see if those fucking rich kids know how to play in a mudbath.”

 It makes Stiles break into an amused smile.  “You’re so badass,” he laughs, trying to ignore the way it swoops at his stomach.  She’s so hot when she gets competitive.  Then Finstock blows his whistle, signaling for the team to run onto the field.  “I guess we’ll get a chance to find out!”

“Let’s get ‘em dirty,” Scottie says and then they step into the rain.

A mudbath really is the only way to describe the game.  Both teams are drenched and messy from head to toe within three minutes, slipping and sliding through the puddles as they try their best to run plays.  It soon becomes obvious that Beacon Hills has not only home field advantage, but the advantage of being used to playing in crappy conditions as well.  They use the mud to their own gain, sliding beneath the Devenford players’ outstretched arms before they can be shoved to the ground.  By the last quarter, the score is 7-2, Beacon Hills.

The crowd is going absolutely ballistic.

Getting rid of all but three seniors means that Stiles, for once in his life, is one of the better players on the team and Finstock orders Scottie and Liam to include him in the final play.

“Devenford won’t even see it coming,” he cries, eyes huge and a little bit unhinged.  He slaps Stiles so hard on the back, Stiles stumbles forward.  “They’re so used to seeing Stilinski run uselessly up and down the field, they’ll never guess he’s going to make the winning shot!”

“Thanks, Coach.”  Stiles rolls his eyes, but he’s not bothered.  Not really.  He’s under no delusions of grandeur when it comes to his athletic ability.

“You ready to be a hero?” Scottie asks, shouting to be heard over the rain.  Her smile is huge and the way she’s looking at him—well, it reminds Stiles of simpler times.  Better times.  It reminds him of _I don’t want to be with anyone else_ and _I had no idea it could be like that_.  He mentally shakes himself.

“So ready!” he agrees, raising his lacrosse stick in the air and barely avoiding smacking a freshman in the face with it.  “Get me the ball and I’ll try not to let you down!”

He doesn’t let them down.  No, when Liam flings the ball from halfway down the field, Stiles makes a perfect catch and then runs for it, twirling and sliding around their green-shirted enemies until he’s close enough to take the shot.  It sails right past the goalie’s crosse into the net just as the buzzer goes off.

Stiles whoops, throwing his hands in the air in victory.  They won.  They actually _won_ and he made a goal.

Finstock and second string storm the field, slapping hands and jumping on backs in their excitement.  Stiles gets swarmed by way too many bodies to count, shouting and laughing so loudly it drowns out the roar of the rain, but when Scottie yells from the outskirts of the group, “You did it, Stiles!” he hears it loud and clear.

When he finally manages to fight his way to her side, her helmet is off and her hair is soaked and her eyes are shining with happiness.  “I did it!” he agrees, doing a stupid little dance.  “Look who’s somewhat useful, after all!”

“Don’t talk about my best friend like that,” she orders him teasingly and the next thing Stiles knows, she’s pulled his helmet from his head and she’s kissing him right there on the lacrosse field in the pouring rain.

Scottie’s _kissing_ him.

It’s like the entire world disappears and Stiles makes a desperate noise in his throat, pressing up against her with an urgency that should be embarrassing but somehow isn’t.  He barely hears the cheers of his teammates as he runs his tongue over her lips, begging to be let inside.  She complies and Stiles kisses her like he’s starving for it, sliding one hand behind her neck and one around her waist like he can climb inside her body and stay there forever.  Kissing her is like coming home and he’s so, _so_ glad to be there.

When they finally break apart, they’re both gasping for air. 

“Does this mean—?” Stiles asks hopefully, running his hands all the way down her arms until he’s holding both of her hands.  “Scottie?”

“I don’t know what it means,” Scottie admits, but she’s looking at him with so much affection in her eyes Stiles can’t find it in himself to be disappointed.  “I just know that I’m happy!”

When he leans over to capture her lips just one last time, she doesn’t pull away.

\- - - 

Stiles is giving his dad a dramatic play-by-play of the game, complete with flailing hand gestures and several bouts of sprinting around the living room, when the doorbell rings.  He flings it open in excitement, knowing that there’s only one person in Beacon Hills that would dare to show up to the sheriff’s house at eleven o’clock on a weekday.

Scottie.

Whatever he’s about to say dies on his lips when he sees the tears in Scottie’s eyes.  “Hey, hey,” he says quietly, soothingly, stepping out onto the porch and closing the door behind him.  “What’s the matter?”

Scottie takes a deep breath like she’s steeling herself and it’s wet and shaky.  “You said you’d be here when I’m ready,” she whispers, wiping away the tears on her cheeks with the sleeve of her hoodie.  “Well…I think I’m ready now.”

Stiles’ heart soars.  “Yeah?” he asks, taking a step toward her.  “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” she agrees, reaching out to grab either side of his flannel shirt and haul him in.  “Kiss me.”

There are so many things they need to talk about, so many things they need to sort out, but he lets them fall by the wayside long enough to press his lips to hers, eyes falling closed in contentment.  It’s not like their kiss on the field – where that one was desperate, this one is gentle.  Stiles hums against her mouth, unable to hold it back, and she responds by stroking at the back of his hair until they pull away.

“ _Mmm_ , missed you,” Stiles whispers, looping his arms around her in a tight hug.  “So much.”

“Missed you, too,” she says, then leads him by the hand to the porch swing where they sit down side by side, slowly swaying.  Stiles puts his arm around her shoulders and leaves it there.

After a few beats of comfortable, warm, contented silence, Scottie finally speaks up, staring out at the rain falling on the street and in the yard rather than turning to look at him.  “Lemme just—”  She sighs.  “I never blamed you for the phone leak, okay?  I just need you to know that.  Nothing about that was your fault.  And no matter how it seemed, I wasn’t ever actually mad at you.  It kinda—it didn’t really have anything to do with you at all, if you can believe that.”  Her hands curl into fists where they’re resting in her lap.  “ _Do_ you believe that?”

“Yes,” Stiles says easily, dropping an encouraging kiss to the top of her head.  He knows she’d never lie to him.

“Good.”  She nods, sniffing hard.  “I’ve just spent so much of my life feeling confused, you know?  Like I’m being yanked back and forth between who I am and who everyone else wants me to be, to the point where I knew that if I was ever gonna truly be myself it was gonna come at a price.  It was a price I was willing to pay, but it still sucks.”  She laughs a little wetly and Stiles’ heart aches in his chest.  He squeezes her shoulder.  “So I just resigned myself to the fact that I couldn’t have what other people have – love and relationships and, you know, sex and stuff.  But then—”  She stops.

Stiles presses his index finger to her chin, asking without words for her to look up at him.  When she does, her wet eyes are so full of trust it takes Stiles’ breath away.  “But then?”

“But then there was you,” Scottie says simply, shrugging.  “You just loved me as I was.  You loved me and you were attracted to me and you _touched_ me, god—!”  She breaks off, a fresh wave of tears rolling down her cheeks.  “And it was incredible, Stiles!  And just when I was getting to the point where I was okay with myself, where I was finally starting to believe that I could have this, _they_ came along and reminded me that I couldn’t.”

Blood laced with burning hot fire, Stiles opens his mouth to protest, but she quickly holds up a hand to cut him off at the pass.  “I know it’s not true,” she promises.  “At least I do now.  But they’d turned something so wonderful into something so ugly and I was _humiliated_ and it was hard to see things for what they were.  So I just…pulled away.  Because I figured the quicker I accepted that I couldn’t have good things, the quicker we could both move on.”  She gives him a watery smile.  “I wanted you to find someone else.”

Stiles shakes his head emphatically.  “I don’t _want_ anyone else,” he says firmly and fiercely, more sure of it than he’s been of anything in his life.  “I wasn’t kidding when I said that.”

“I know you weren’t,” she says, turning on the swing to face him.  “And I wasn’t either.”

When they lean toward each other, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.  Stiles’ hands are in Scottie’s hair and her fingers are tracing nonsensical shapes over his chest as they kiss and kiss and kiss, breathing each other’s air and whining as they get more and more worked up.  When Scottie lets out a loud moan that goes straight to Stiles’ dick, he knows he needs to reroute the situation before one of his dad’s deputy buddies books them for public lewdness. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he pants, pulling away.  “I want you so fucking bad, Scottie, but we can’t do this here.”

“My mom’s not home,” she suggests, swiping a hand over her wet mouth.  Her gaze is unsteady.  “We could go there?”

“I’m not driving ten miles in the pouring rain just so we can fuck,” Stiles says, shaking his head rapidly.  “Besides, I’m way too worked up to drive right now – I’d probably run us off the road.  It’d be like driving under the influence of sexiness.  Like a DUIS.  Do you think that’s a thing?”

“ _Stiles_ ,” she says, giggling.  “Concentrate, please.”

“Right, sorry.”  Then he leaps to his feet, adrenaline coursing through his veins.  “We’ll just kick my dad out.”

She gasps in delight, clapping a hand over her mouth.  “You wouldn’t!”

But Stiles would and he does, throwing open the front door and announcing, “I think it’s time for all dads to head to the grocery store!”

Dad, true to form, just rolls his eyes.  “It’s almost midnight, Stiles.  The grocery store is closed.”  Then he nods at Scottie who’s standing behind Stiles, trying to contain her laughter.  “Good to see you, honey.”

Stiles rubs impatiently at his temples.  “Then go to Walmart, Dad…it’s open twenty-four hours.”  Without waiting for his dad to answer, he takes Scottie by the hand and drags her up the stairs, calling back, “Give us at least an hour!”

“I think you grossly overestimate yourself!” his smartass of a father shouts back but it’s only a few seconds before Stiles hears the front door open and then slam shut.  He’s _so_ buying Dad a double serving of curly fries tomorrow.

“You’re so bad,” Scottie laughs, collapsing back onto Stiles’ bed and shimmying out of her shirt and jeans right way.  She’s never been one for putting on a show, which Stiles loves.  Scottie’s just…Scottie and Stiles is so fucking lucky.  “You literally just sexiled your own damn father.”

“You love it,” Stiles shoots back, tossing his clothes to the ground as well.  Once they’re down to their underwear, he catapults himself onto the bed next to her, making her giggle.  It’s a blessed sound and, embarrassingly, Stiles feels his throat go tight. 

She must be able to read it on his face, because she goes suddenly serious, stroking her thumb across his cheek.  “I do love it,” she tells him softly.  “I love _you_ , Stiles.”

“I love you, too,” he says, the words familiar despite months of disuse, and then he settles himself over her and kisses her.

 It takes no time at all for Stiles to be rock hard and leaking, groaning as Scottie sucks at the sensitive skin of his neck hard enough to leave a bruise.  “God, _yeah_ ,” he pants out, lifting his chin to give her better access.  “I’m all yours, Scottie…let ‘em know.”

“All mine,” she murmurs between open-mouthed kisses and the scraping of teeth.  “ _Forever_.”

“Forever.”

But when Stiles finally kisses down her body, wet drags of lips that make her shiver, he finds that she’s still soft in her panties.  Concerned, Stiles rubs a gentle hand over her quivering belly and asks, “Are you okay?  Is it not feeling good?  Are you uncomfortable?”

It makes Scottie go red, hiding her eyes behind her hands.  “It’s not that,” she assures him.  Stiles would feel a whole lot more comforted if she didn’t look so embarrassed.  All he wants is for her to feel safe with him.  “You feel wonderful.  I just haven’t touched myself since— _you_ _know_ , so it’s probably gonna take a while.  The doctor says you’ve gotta use it if you want it to keep working, but I kinda just wanted to forget it was there.”  She finally comes out of hiding, giving him a rueful smile.  “We might need that full hour.”

“You can have every minute of it and more,” Stiles says gently, leaning up to kiss at her lips.  “I can’t promise I won’t come in my undies before then, but I’ll get you there, Scottie.  It’ll be so good, I swear.”

He redoubles his efforts, stripping her all the way down and pushing a knee between her legs as he licks at her nipples.  He pulls away long enough to say, “You should ride my leg,” before getting right back to it, hand playing with her other tit before he switches.  Scottie makes a high-pitched noise and obeys, rolling her hips so her dick rubs against his thigh.  It makes him shudder.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Scottie gasps, her hands gripping tightly to Stiles’ shoulders as he sucks a lovebite into her chest, just high enough that she won’t be able to wear a V-neck for a while.  He can feel her nails digging in, probably leaving indents the shape of crescent moons.  “J-just like that, _yeah_.”

She’s so fucking beautiful like this, her guard down and her inhibitions gone, chasing her pleasure, chasing _Stiles_ , that Stiles has to take a minute to just breathe, burying his face between her tits.  She doesn’t seem to mind, her fingers twining into his hair as she rubs clumsily against his thigh.  Then she must get just the right angle, because her body suddenly twitches and a breathy _oh!_ falls out of her mouth. 

When Stiles looks down, her dick is hard, standing up proudly in a cute little curve.

“That’s my girl,” he says fondly, pressing a kiss to one of the palms of her hands.  “I knew you could do it.”

“C-can you—?”  She can’t even get the words out, her eyes rolling back in her head as she keeps grinding against him.  “Please?”

It’s fine – Stiles knows what she wants.  So, pressing the heel of his hand against his own dick to calm himself, he crawls down the bed until he’s eye-level with her dick and takes the entire thing into his mouth in one smooth motion. 

Scottie _keens_ and it sends heat shooting through Stiles’ body.  God, he’s missed her so much.  He’d been terrified that he’d never be able to make her feel good again, but now she’s here and she’s moaning and she’s tugging at his hair and it’s everything Stiles has ever wanted.

When he swirls his tongue, trying something new, it catches her by surprise and she bucks up into his face with a choked-off noise.  “Sorry, sorry!” she cries, patting at his head in apology.  “That was just— _wow_.”

If Stiles didn’t have a mouthful of dick, he would’ve smirked.  But he _does_ have a mouthful of dick, so he just does it again, moving his tongue around and then lapping at her slit until she shouts a desperate _I’m gonna—!_ and comes down his throat.  It’s even less than last time and once he’s swallowed it down, he shoves a hand down his boxers to give his dick a few quick jerks before he’s coming as well.  He knows Scottie probably would’ve wanted to do it, but he’s a seventeen-year-old boy who held off for nearly an hour…he thinks it’s understandable.  There’s always next time.

When Scottie recovers, she grabs him beneath the armpits to haul him up to lie next to her, murmuring _I love you I love you I love you I love you_ like a mantra, kissing him between each one.  Her eyes are full of tears when she says, voice low like a whisper, “Thank you.”

Stiles blinks at her in surprise.  “For what?”

She traces the curve of his lips with one of her fingers, smiling when he puckers up to kiss it.  “For loving me,” she says simply.  “And for staying even when you couldn’t be with me the way you wanted.”

It tugs at something deep in Stiles’ chest and he pulls her close, burying his face in her sweaty hair.  “I want to be with you in all the ways,” he says, his bottom lip trembling with how thoroughly he means it.  “You’re my best friend, Scottie.  There are no bad ways to be with you.”

“You mean that?”

He squeezes her tight.  “I mean that.”

Nodding resolutely, Scottie pulls away just enough so she can look him in the face.  “Grab your phone real quick,” she tells him.  “Please.”

He does as he’s asked, reaching back to blindly swipe it from the bedside table and pass it to her.  “What are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna take a picture,” she explains, opening up his front-facing camera so they can see themselves, a mess of hair and flushed skin and kiss-bitten lips.  It’s abundantly clear what they just spent the last hour doing.  “Because I get to have this good thing and I never wanna forget that.”

When the shutter goes off, Stiles is looking at Scottie instead of the camera.

**Author's Note:**

> further warnings (spoilers!): 
> 
> transphobia - a bully gets ahold of a personal picture of scottie and makes some very disrespectful remarks before sending the picture to the lacrosse team. scottie is never misgendered and everyone unquestioningly refers to her as a girl throughout the entire story, but in this one specific instance the bullies had some nasty shit to say about her body
> 
> attempted sexual assault - members of the lacrosse team corner stiles and try to assault him as some form of "punishment" but the situation is handled before anything can happen


End file.
